Cars Drabbles
by Grips
Summary: A collections of Cars drabbles, most intended to be humorous and all of them Sarge related in some way. Drabble four: Sally has a talk with Sarge about his rotten attitude.
1. Mack and Sarge

**Cars Drabbles**

_A collection of Cars drabbles, mostly Sarge related, that I've done over the past few months for entry in a number of contests, or as requests._

**Drabble #1**

**Mack, Sarge - boring, glitter, phone **

"**Of Home Videos and Jeeps with Drinking Problems" **

"I can't do this. I can't do this. Can't do this can't do this."

Sarge stared at himself in a full length mirror. His frame had been polished to a shine and his antenna was coiled with elegant black silk. He groped for a bottle on the dresser nearby, something clear and smelling strongly of alcohol, and tipped a good portion of it into his mouth with a shaking tire, grimaced and swallowed.

"I thought waiting would be boring, but now I'd rather wait all day, and maybe tomorrow, and the rest of my life," he muttered to himself, still looking in the mirror. He suddenly felt claustrophobic and swung open the door that led outside into the grass. He looked up at the blue Californian sky and noticed with a jump of surprise that Mack was next to him.

"Heard you talking to yourself," he said. "I felt the same way before I got married."

Sarge blinked up at him. Mack and he had never been particularly close, but he was willing to talk to just about anyone right now. He drew a shaking tire over his bumper nervously.

"I bet it wasn't anything like how I feel. You married a fantastically hot woman. I'm marrying a hippie with a beard who probably isn't going to bathe for this."

"At least you won't end up with glitter at your wedding."

"I wouldn't put it past him." He drove inside, returned with his bottle of vodka and took another sip. "I can just see it. You know those home video TV shows where they show grooms fainting at the altar? That's me."

"Well, you might win 10,000 dollars."

Sarge chuckled. Another sip of vodka that was more like a gulp. "Have you seen him? There's a phone in the room - " he pointed a tire " - but I don't know if he has one."

"You know that's against the rules."

"I know, I know!" Another drink. "I just..."

"I know you don't believe me, but I felt the same way. Really. But this will make your lives so much easier, and anyway, I'm sure you've been through scarier moments."

"No. I don't think I have."

Mack drove up to him and gently nudged him with a tire. "It's just about time to start. Maybe you should put the bottle down so you can drive in a straight line, at least."

"Right." He looked up at the semi with distracted eyes. "Thank you, Mack."

"Hey, no problem. I'm sure everything will be fine, but I do have a camcorder ready in case you pass out."

Sarge groaned and went back into the room, giving his tires one last polish. **  
**


	2. Snot Rod

**Drabble #2**

**300 Words - Sarge, Snot Rod - hood, yellow, rising **

"**An Unlikely Alliance" **

Sarge traveled slowly down the long and dusty road. He squinted to the horizon, the view obscured by rising heat waves. The sun was high in the sky, a beaming disc of merciless yellow that made his engine overheat until his hood ached. Heat was not Sarge's friend.

His antenna perked at the sound of powerful engines approaching. Sarge was old, but quick on his tires. Even then, he had only half turned around before a group of bright tuners whizzed past him in a blur and a cloud of dust, laughing uproariously. The last of them struck him a glancing blow to his bumper, and the Jeep skidded a circle in the dirt and cursed.

Snot Rod (for he had been the one who had hit him) heard this and turned. The others continued on, as usual not overly concerned with the Barracuda, who they deemed a bit of a loser, both for his slowness and clumsiness on the road and when he did things like this:

The tuner approached Sarge.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine! Watch where you're going in the future, you could really hurt someone you disrespectful little..."

Snot Rod blinked sadly.

"Sorry 'bout that. You look hot."

A faint blush.

"Excuse me?"

"Overheated. Usually the gang and I go to Flo's for a slushy when it gets this hot. Want one? To make up for it, I mean."

"Er... I...sure. Huh, looks like at least one of you was raised with some discipline."

The two made introductions, and then the odd pair headed back to town, Sarge speaking of his younger years and how he was raised to treat people with respect, and Snotty listening patiently, glad that this vehicle was both willing to talk with him and was too slow to leave him behind.


	3. Fog

**Drabble # 3**

**200 Words - Sarge, Fillmore - dandelion, fog, chance**

**Untitled**

Stones and shale came lose under tires, and would roll down the hillside, clattering into places unseen, obscured by the thick fog. The only other sound was a slight breeze. As for what could be seen - not much. The low lying cloud obscured everything that wasn't within fifteen feet of the observer. Two voices could be heard, the fog stifling any echoes and making them sound close and confined.

"You've gotten us lost, hippie."

"No way. We came out here to hike and that's what we're doing. And anyway - whoa!"

Fillmore, for it was obviously he who had spoken, suddenly vanished in a noisy clatter of falling stones and dirt giving way. Without a second thought, his companion dove after him, never mind the chance that there may be a sheer drop or something equally life-endangering through the thick mist.

But there was a ledge mere feet down to save both of them. Sarge opened his eyes and saw yellow, then green. Dandelions in the dozens sprouted here despite the harsh conditions, and the bus lay among them, beaming at the Jeep. He kissed him.

"Look out, Sarge, your affection is showing."

"Shut up, hippie."


	4. Sally

**Drabble # 4**

**Sarge and Sally**

**Untitled**

It was a balmy night in Radiator Springs. One of those nights where everyone is feeling joyful and festive for no particular reason. Almost everyone was assembled at Flo's, most of them drinking. Mater and Ramone were chatting and laughing about something or other, as were Doc and Sheriff. Lightning and Sally were getting quite snuggly, but of course no one minded.

Well, no one except Sarge, who glared at them over his drink with a look that was considerably more icy than his usual frown, which most people brushed off as him being, well, just the way he was.

Fillmore was next to him, and, oddly enough, he looked worried. His worry wasn't exactly as obvious as that of the average vehicle, but beneath his heavy lids his brown eyes were moving from Sarge, to McQueen and Sally, and back, and his tires were shuffling beneath him, barely perceptible. When he could take no more of Sarge's grumbling and glaring, he spoke in a voice just above a whisper.

"Easy, man, it's just love..."

The bus immediately regretted having spoken when Sarge gave a particularly loud and disgusted snort and rolled his eyes in a very dramatic way at Fillmore's words, then fixed his glare once again on the snuggling couple.

It seemed that Sally had had enough. She was now driving over to Sarge, while Lightning remained where he was, blinking in confusion. The Porsche parked in front of the Jeep, and Fillmore slowly started to back up.

"You know what, Sarge?"

Sarge only glared and jutted out his bottom bumper.

"I didn't want to have to do this to you, but: You're an asshle, you know that? I mean, I'm sure you know that, it seems to be a conscious effort on your part from what I can tell."

Everyone had gone dead silent. Sarge's eyes were open as wide as they could possibly be open.

"Now look here, woman, I -- "

Sally held up a tire and cut him off.

"I know it bothers you when McQueen and I get close. I know it bothers you when Flo and Ramone get close. Don't even get me _started _on how much it bothers you when Mack and Vee get close, but we all know why. You know that, right? and you know, sometimes I just wish you would get over yourself, stop making every couple here miserable just because you want them to be as uncomfortable in public with their boyfriends as you are with yours."

Fillmore buried his face in his drink with a groan, awaiting the fiery explosion that would in the end be directed straight at him.

It never came, however. Sarge seemed to be teetering on the brink of it, but Sally had struck a nerve. He merely gaped at her with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open slightly. His eyes looked to the crowd. Everyone was staring directly at him, and for a moment he felt like he might faint. A very Ramone-ish voice snickered somewhere in the crowd.

Sarge managed to shut his mouth. He cleared his throat a few times, then jabbed an accusing tire at Sally.

"Well, you..!" Sally waited for him to say something. "You..."

It seemed he could think of nothing to say. To the shock of everyone there, he simply turned and left, eyes still impossibly wide and grille still flushed. When Sarge was out of sight, someone clapped their tires together in applause, and that someone was very near to where the Ramone snicker had come from.

Sally turned to Fillmore, who seemed to be trying to figure out how to put his very large body into his very small fuel can.

"Was I too hard on him?"

Fillmore looked timidly to her.

"Nah. I love him, but I think he needed that."

Sally smiled a bit.

"I'm going to go talk to him."

Fillmore blinked at her as if she had just said she was going to go jump into Frank's blades. She rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Oh, come on, I'm not afraid of Sarge."

Fillmore tried to smile for her, and once she was gone he ordered the strongest drink on the menu.

Sally parked outside Sarge's hut and rang the doorbell. Sarge was quick enough to answer the door.

"Look, bus, I just want to b -- Oh!" The Jeep bristled when he saw who it was. "Can I help you?" he said in an almost hiss.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"I've already heard what you wanted to say," Sarge said brusquely, then turned, his tire hovering over the button that would close the door before Sally protested.

"No, I mean, really _talk_ to you. You look like you could use someone to talk to."

Sarge's tire hit the ground with an angry thud.

"If you're suggesting I need some kind of therapy session, I -- "

"Would you please just _relax_? Just for two seconds, Sarge? I came over to apologise. I want to talk to you, not lecture you. Can I come in?"

Sarge stared at her for a moment, then turned hesitantly and gestured for her to enter. She drove inside the hut, and he shut the door. His home only consisted of three rooms: the shop, a living room type area, and his private quarters. They both settled down in the living room, facing each other, and Sarge stared at her impatiently, tapping a tire.

"Right. So I wanted to say I'm sorry. Not for telling you to knock it off and stop glaring, because you really need to stop doing that, Sarge. I'm sorry for outing you and Fillmore in front of everyone, though. I mean, most of us have picked up on it anyway, but it still wasn't my place."

Sarge's frown had changed to a thoughtful one, and since he wasn't saying anything, Sally continued.

"I know it's not easy for you to be in a relationship with Fillmore, because for whatever reason you think we're all going to hate you for it, but look: we've all known you for years. Some of us for decades. Maybe I haven't known you as long as say, Sheriff has, but really...we don't think any differently of you, Sarge. Don't be so ashamed of yourself. You and Fillmore are just as legitimate to us Mack and Vee are. I just want you to stop taking out your insecurity on everyone."

Sally was surprised that Sarge had let her go on this long. The old Jeep was staring at her, still thoughtful and perhaps a bit sad. The only thing that gave away his frustration was the slight kneading of his tires against the carpet.

"The whole town isn't out to get you, okay? Go easy on us, and Fillmore." She chucked. "I know a lot has changed lately, but you're still my friend."

The Porsche considered for a moment. Maybe what she was about to do was suicidal, but Sarge seemed like he needed it, whether he knew it or not, and from someone that wasn't Fillmore. Someone that could affirm his worth to the rest of them.

She wrapped a tire around his and kissed him on the grille. She had half expected for him to rear back or even strike her, but he merely remained motionless and looked down at her with a blush, lowering his hood a bit. She pulled away and smiled.

"I'm going to go back to Lightning now or I'll never hear the end of it."

Sarge nodded, chewing his bottom bumper.

"Alright. Err, umm, thank you, Sally."

She smiled. "No problem. Bye!"

As she headed out the door, a slightly intoxicated looking Fillmore was there in Sarge's lawn, waiting. He stared at her in shock.

"Piece of cake," Sally said, laughing, and Fillmore's mouth made a circle in a silent impressed whistle.


End file.
